Part 28 (1/2)
”You promised to marry her?” he inquired.
”I never told her so.”
”But you led her to believe you would?”
”I wasn't responsible for what she believed.”
”Now I'll tell you something,” pursued the detective in a firm, subdued voice. ”An hour before Julia Strong committed suicide she was in my office at Police Headquarters.”
Collins started as if jarred by a hateful sound.
”I--I--don't believe it,” he faltered.
”She was there,” said Britz, ignoring the other's remark. ”Moreover, she accused you of having killed Whitmore. She did it in the presence of a witness, and, although she was unaware of it, her statement was taken down by a hidden stenographer.”
”Then why did she commit suicide?” blurted Collins, as if her death contradicted the detective's statement.
”She betrayed you because you had betrayed her. She thought you and your wife had become reconciled. Then, when she received your note--the one that Beard brought her--she believed you meant, after all, to marry her.
In a fit of remorse at having betrayed you, she killed herself.”
”Why do you tell me this?” asked Collins suspiciously.
”To show you what an overwhelming ma.s.s of evidence we have against you.
And to give you a last opportunity to explain.”
Collins's eyes traveled about the room, lingering on the various objects that were so intimately a.s.sociated with the woman whom he had thought so loyal.
”So she too was ready to turn against me!” He shook his head in a self-pitying way. ”The one person who, I thought, would never desert me!” His eyes took on a fixidity, as if gazing at a distant object.
”Money gone!” he murmured, as if talking to himself. ”Girl dead--a traitor! Home broken! What's the use?”
The others watched him silently, breathlessly, their eyes lighted with eager expectancy. Collins had sunk into that state of complete despondency wherein even the primal instinct of self-preservation is weakened to the point of extinction. Britz had applied the much-abused and publicly misunderstood third degree in a manner shrewdly calculated to shatter the resisting qualities of the victim's will. By alternately tyrannizing over and cajoling the prisoner--for Collins virtually was a prisoner--he had finally produced in him a condition of mind that invariably leads to confession.
”Well, Collins!” Britz smiled encouragingly. ”Only one man can save you--that's yourself. You know as well as I how quickly the others would sacrifice you to save themselves. If you permit them to destroy you, you have only yourself to blame.”
Collins lifted his head and met the steady gaze of the detective. The last ounce of resistance had departed from his weak nature. He was ready to yield. But a sudden interruption occurred to divert the attention of those in the room. Someone was banging violently on the door. Britz motioned the others not to leave their chairs, hoping that whoever was seeking admittance would conclude that the apartment was unoccupied and leave. But the banging continued until finally the detective was moved to open the door.
A man burst into the room, brus.h.i.+ng past Britz and precipitating his figure into the sitting room.
”Luckstone!” exclaimed Collins, bounding out of his chair.
The lawyer gazed angrily from his client to Britz.
”What does this mean?” he demanded.
”It means that Mr. Collins has dispensed with your services and is ready to confide in me,” answered the detective with calm a.s.surance.
Luckstone's eyes narrowed on Collins. The latter nodded a weak a.s.sent to the detective's words.
”I've been searching for you all evening,” the lawyer burst forth excitedly. ”Called up your house, went to the club and finally took a chance on finding you here. I was afraid something like this might happen. I hope you haven't communicated anything to these men.”
”Oh, what's the good of remaining silent any longer?” asked Collins surlily.